Chaperone
by Luka-nee
Summary: Simon is a good friend, Jellal and Erza are frivolous idiots. Fluffy, plotless rambling, really. implied JeraEru/Jerza. Oneshot.


_Ohai! Long time!_

_I sort of thought I was over Fairy Tail because nothing was happening, and then Jellal and Erza talked under a bridge and Milliana came back and suddenly I was totally invested again. Also my Erza x Kagura crack!ship is pretty much thoroughly sunk. DEVO._

_Anyway, this has pretty much no plot and was just a little scene I had stuck in my head so I wrote it down to see if I could and I can! I want to write something else later, which will (theoretically) be a little more interesting x) So bear with me :D_

* * *

__**CHAPERONE**

* * *

Simon drinks his beer and watches his friends dance. The barman mops up spilled drinks across the countertop and follows his gaze.

"You playing chaperone tonight?"

Simon glances his way. "More or less. I'm just here to make sure they get home safely."

"But you're drinking?"

He puts his glass down and crosses his arms with a sigh, tilting his head to the side in an effort to stretch his cramping neck. "I won't drive." He gestures at Jellal. "After the third month of my car smelling like _his_ vomit, I resolved just to walk."

"They probably won't be able to walk far."

"I know. I usually carry them."

"You live far?"

"I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can."

Simon gives him a look, as if trying to figure out whether he was being hit on or not. He chalks it up to flattery and orders another drink. The barman has one for him in a second.

"So how long've you been interested in...?"

"Her," Simon finishes for him dryly. "A while. But that's mostly in the past. I mean, look at them."

They both do: The long-time friends are the life of the party, drinking and dancing and chatting and introducing each other to everyone they come across. When blue trails off with a slurred, bright-eyed grin, red finishes the sentence with a laugh and a hand on the small of his back. Then they both look shocked and pleased in short succession, and toast their synchronicity with a ferocious, jumping bearhug and a hoarse shout of triumph. They fit together seamlessly, as if they were two parts of the same whole. It was plain to see.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"But you might still have a chance? Did she ever... _pick_ one of you?"

Simon swills the beer in his glass and gives it a ponderous look. "She's never said anything. She won't choose, even though we used to try and make her. There was a time when we went from being best friends to bitter rivals. She called us a pair of misogynist rutting bulls and left us on our own for almost a month. We learned. Now it's just a 'whatever happens_, _happens' thing."

"But you've backed off?"

"Bowed out gracefully," Simon allows, "but it'll be ages before anything official or anything happens between them. They're wary of my reaction if anything does go down."

"But you don't care?"

"It's not that I don't care," he replies. "I've just accepted the inevitable. In any case, even if they did finally start an official relationship, it would be like this anyway. I know they'd still involve me in everything. It's been the three of us since practically forever." He smirks. "Besides. Who else is strong enough to carry them both home, hm?"

The barman laughs and gestures towards the idiots on the floor. Erza trips and rolls her ankle in her heels and, trying to help her stay up, Jellal ends up toppling them both. Nine other dancers fall with them, creating a colourful pile of limbs and laughing/groaning individuals under the lights. Erza is trapped under four people and lies there chewing the inside of her cheek, no doubt wondering how she got there. From her place on the ground she sees Simon upside-down. A smile breaks across her face and she waves enthusiastically. He waves back and downs his drink.

When he goes to dig her out he can understand what she's been trying to say over the loud music. "SIMON. I FELL DOWN!" she shouts into his ear. "I THOUGHT I WAS GOOD AT SHOES." Dancers are rolling off the people-pile with every sweep of Simon's great arms. Jellal is face down, squirming. He reminds Simon of a toy robot trying to walk with a wall in the way. "Come on," he grins, getting her to her feet.

"My ankle," she complains.

"MY FACE IS ON THE GROUND," shouts Jellal from his spot on the floor.

Erza smiles, Simon laughs, and Jellal is hefted bodily to his feet as well.

"We better go, guys. It's pretty late, and you've had enough." He leads them to the exit, cocking his head at the barman as he goes past. The bouncer opens the door for him and suddenly the music and the pulse and the lights and the smell is gone and they're outside. It's dark but for street lamps, cold and crisp, a winter night. Jellal and Erza smell like sweat and makeup and spilled fruity drinks. Simon grins and shakes his head. "You two right to walk? Erza? How's your ankle?"

She screws up her face, wrinkling her nose like a child. "It's okay."

"Ice later?"

"Yeah."

Simon tries to inspect it, but the only way to do that is to let Jellal go for a while. As soon as he does, Jellal reels and starts to fall. Simon manages to catch him just in time by the collar of his jacket. "Nice," Jellal comments as he's hefted back into place. He leans against Simon's torso and starts to sing a little drunken ballad in his honour. Erza waves off his concern. "Homeward, brave knights!" she shouts, pointing in the wrong direction. "Homeward! Towards icepacks and..."

"Water and bed and toilets and maybe some sort of carbohydrate-loaded dish that won't have you puking your guts out later," Simon finishes for her.

"Yeah!" They both sound insanely pleased. "Go, Simon!"

And they head off. Slowly.

They're barely past the first lamp post when Simon opts to just sling Jellal up over his shoulder. He woops like a child, then almost vomits. Erza trails behind to look at him, batting at his hanging arms playfully. She's limping slightly, carrying her shoes in one hand. Simon doesn't think walking the city streets of Magnolia barefoot is particularly healthy, but he also thinks that some of the things Erza puts on her feet seem more like death-machines than footwear, so he lets it go.

He glances at her face in the streetlights. Her ankle definitely hurts, but she's determined to walk on it all the way home if she has to. Her gait is slow and wobbly, and she doesn't – or can't – manage to walk in a straight line, so she veers away and then bumps into him periodically. It reminds him of their mutual courtship phase, how frustrated he would get seeing them get so close and then seem so far a second later. In hindsight the whole debacle is embarrassing. He's happy that they're older. He's happy he understands. He's happy that they all still love each other anyway.

... Although maybe Jellal loves him a little _too_ much, he reflects, as he feels a hand slap lightly on his backside. He hefts his friend who giggles like a schoolboy caught at pranking, and for what must have been the hundredth time that night, Simon rolls his eyes and sighs. Jellal catches Erza's eye and they start laughing, loud and uninhibited and genuine. Erza doubles over gasping for air and Simon digs his sharp shoulder bones into Jellal's stomach.

"You're both such idiots."

"But we looooove youuuuu," Jellal drawls, smacking him again. "Paddy-cake, paddy-cake -"

"STOP THAT," Simon scolds him. "Erza-"

She tries to stop laughing but it doesn't work. Growling in good humour he grabs her and hefts her up onto his other shoulder. She carries on like Jellal does, wooping and squirming around to try and get comfortable atop the broad expanse. "Wee!" They high-five across his back.

"Erza, I have a very important mission for you," he tells her seriously. Jellal gasps and she goes very silent before solemnly promising, "ANYTHING."

"Keep Jellal from touching my butt again."

"No, but..." she starts. Simon is about to tell her that 'No butt' is _exactly_ what he means, but before he can get a word out the idiots on his back start singing together. Two pairs of hands on each of his glutes make him jump, but in the end he just turns red and mutters to himself, to the tune of Paddy-cake, all the way home.

* * *

**CHAPERONE**

* * *

****_Okay now I swear to hell my next story will have NO ALCOHOL IN IT. Except for whatever Bacchus is carrying._

_Also! Jellal didn't throw up! I think that's like the FIRST TIME EVER. Atta boy._


End file.
